This story has been open on my desktop for months now — buried in the flurry of tabs and windows that have come since — going up in number, becoming overwhelming, and then going back down, as in the loudness, I find myself getting quieter, seeking less volume of information, and more depth of experience and humanity.
I saw your post, and re-read it. Thank you.
There’s all kinds of pieces out there about policy, arguments for and against, musings and wailings and impassioned pieces in response to the madness people are feeling in their own minds and lives.
This story is different, to me — inarguable. Immutable. It’s so deeply yours. When people ask me about rape culture, or about how two perfectly wonderful human beings could find themselves in the same bed and yet entirely different worlds, your story gets to be a touchstone for me. I get to truly reflect on when I’ve been Mark, in my life, and how much leeway and kindness my sexual partners have given me when we’ve stumbled around in the dark, so to speak. Your honesty begged me, and I hope begs all of us to reflect in our lives at our own shared sexual experiences and our inadequacies therein, our relationships, our woundedness, and despite and perhaps because of it all, our love for one another and our shared humanity.